my childish magic

by ellasnotebook

Published February 12, 2018

E - Everyone

In poetry

a ladybug perched on the tip of my nose

a shooting star streaking the stormy black sky

a stray wispy eyelash abandoned on my pillow

when i’m still awake at 11:11 at night

-

a glittering pot at the end of the rainbow

a four leafed clover hidden in threes

a right side up penny on a cracked busted side walk

this childish magic is oh so precious to me

-

and when i am old and bedraggled and haggard

and i lose all my faith in the bright shooting star

ill lean into the warmth of your calloused embrace

i feel my childish magic in the beats of your heart

Comments & reviews · 5
anoushkasutton wrote a review Review · Mar 4, 2018

Hi, just stopping in for a review
This was a nice, warming poem. It reflects the innocence and wonder of a child well, the young often disregard reality for magic.
This was short and sweet and was enjoyable to read.
I think I gives people that feeling that we had when we were children, that belief that anything is possible.
I can't see any grammar/structure mistakes, this was really well written.
Well done, hope you keeping writing in the future.

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CrystalRose
Review
CrystalRose wrote a review Review · Mar 2, 2018

I really liked this,i am still youngish anyways but childish things aren't really smiled upon at my age anymore to be honest adults expect you to be mature and your own age laugh at you if your childish. but little things like them make me a little bit happier to realise we still have some innocence left.
There was no errors that i could see of and this was a really good piece of work, so keep it up.
This was light-hearted and enjoyable to read. Thank you for sharing.

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Prophecy7 Review
Prophecy7 wrote a review Review · Feb 14, 2018

I REALLY enjoyed this! I don't normally read poetry(like at all), but this had me intrigued. I was able to picture each thing that you described. That is my favorite part of reading(not that it matters). It just had a young feel to it.Each stanza felt very magical in its own way. I am so glad I came across this poem! Keep on writing!

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leleparadise
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leleparadise wrote a review Review · Feb 12, 2018

This poem has such a good lighthearted feel to it. The description for this poem really set it off for me because I feel joy for small wonders I find in life.

It is very true, just because you get older, doesn't mean that you can't hold onto the child at heart and appreciate the smaller things.

I love that you didn't make every line in the stanzas rhyme. It's my own personal opinion, but poems that rhyme in every line is a bit too cliche-ish for me.

I love that you switched from tangible wonders to told good luck charms. I still make a wish at 11:11. Lol

But the last stanza is my favorite. I do have a question though. In what relation does the person with the "calloused embrace" have to the narrator? It is an older character? Or is the callous representing someone who doesn't find the same joys in those charms as the narrator? And they only begin to recognize those charms until the narrator is older and has exercised their joys long and well enough to be cherished for it?

Still a very well written poem. I loved it

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Vivian
Review
Vivian wrote a review Review · Feb 12, 2018

Viv here to give a review.

Firstly, lovely poem. It manages to encompass childhood wonder and the learning of new things from young to old.

I like how you set it up in brief but meaningful stanzas of small things that children especially would find amazing and magical because to them everything is new and amazing and magical.

(If no punctuation was your stylistic choice than you can just ignore this next part)

1. "... cracked, busted sidewalk"
2. "I'll"
3. "I"

Other than that, this has a sort of enchantment to it, like the ladybug perched on the and managing to see a shooting star in a stormy sky. Also, that ending was really sweet. It suddenly becomes a poem about love for a second and that still feels magical.

Great work.
Salut!



The roots of education are bitter, but the fruit is sweet.
— Aristotle